Roses Lie Waiting
by Gamma Orionis
Summary: Narcissa Black is the prize of the Black family, their perfect, delicate little flower. She dares not tell anyone about why she is so delicate, or about the secrets hidden behind the doors of Black Manor, or especially about her father... Written for the heroinebigbang on LiveJournal.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: Written for the heroinebigbang on Livejournal – a collaborative project between authors and artists in which authors write long fics (in this case, a minimum of 15K centring around female characters), and artists create art to accompany them. I will at some point provide some method of viewing the art – this website has made it very difficult by not allowing anything resembling a URL in a story.

Warnings (for the entirety of the story): Contains dark subject matter, namely child abuse, incest, non-consensual sex between an adult and a minor and evidence of some forms of some mental disorders.

)O(

Narcissa could hear Bellatrix crying.

Bellatrix always made a careful effort not to cry when her little sisters were around, no matter what happened, but she was easy to hear. Quiet sobs interspersed with furious, indecipherable whispers carried far in the halls of Black Manor.

Bellatrix didn't know that her sisters could hear her from their bedroom when she hid in the attic and cried, and neither Andromeda nor Narcissa had the heart to wound her pride by telling her. So they sat stayed in bed and when they saw their eldest sister again in the mornings, they acted as though nothing had happened.

On these nights, when Bellatrix was in the attic, Andromeda could asleep easily enough, but Narcissa lay awake. She could not sleep at home without her eldest sister in the room.

One particular night in January, when frost made spidery webs upon the windows and the moon shone bright and clear and cold over Black Manor, Narcissa was curled in bed, trying to lull herself to sleep, listening to Bellatrix's quiet sobbing, and trying to recall the events of the night.

Cygnus and Druella had thrown one of their usual parties, an even duller affair than the ordinary ones because so few people had attended. But they had put their best efforts into making it seem important, because it was to celebrate their daughters' return to Hogwarts, which, Narcissa supposed, was something that required a party.

Narcissa was being kept home a few extra days – she was ill, and her parents said that it was better for her to recuperate at home than go off to school and strain herself. _She was such a delicate thing, after all_. But Bellatrix and Andromeda would be going – Bellatrix, for her very last term at the school – and so there had been a celebration.

Despite Narcissa's illness and frailty, she had been required to attend. She had begged her parents to let her go up to bed, but they told her it was only a few hours, and then she could go and sleep. So she stayed downstairs.

Andromeda had disappeared somewhere – perhaps to the library to bury herself in a book, or to a broom cupboard with some boy. Rabastan Lestrange sat at the edge of the party in his usual state of brooding angst, fidgeting and only occasionally looking up to glance around with something like suspicion, and Bellatrix was dancing with Rodolphus Lestrange, leaving Narcissa to sit at the edge of the room and listen to hushed discussion of boring matters between her father and other men.

"…All just politics," Abraxas Malfoy was saying. "It won't ever come to anything."

"Won't it, though?" Joseph Lestrange asked darkly. "You do not understand what can happen, Abraxas…"

"We have worn this subject to the ground," Cygnus put in, rather sharply, as he always sounded when he spoke to Abraxas. "Surely we can discuss something else."

"What else is there to discuss, Cygnus?" Abraxas asked, with a light little laugh. "If you have something clever or intelligent to say, do be sure to tell…"

Cygnus bristled, and Narcissa winced, staring at them and unable to tear her eyes from the scene. _This shall not end well_.

"Let us discuss morals, Abraxas," he snapped. "Surely that is a good matter for men such as ourselves to discuss – much to say, is there not? Much to say about… for example… the sin of adultery…"

"What are you implying?" demanded Abraxas.

"I said nothing…"

"You two disgust me," Joseph said, taking a sip of his drink. "Must you fight every time we speak?"

"If Cygnus insists upon insulting my honour–"

"Your honour deserves to be insulted!" said Cygnus, his voice rising. Narcissa ducked her head and shrunk back against the wall. That tone in her father's voice was dangerous – she knew better than anyone. Well, anyone save perhaps Bellatrix. "The lowest circle of Hell is reserved for liars and adulterers!"

"I have been led to believe that it is reserved for traitors, actually," Joseph corrected. "And once more, you both disgust me. Let us speak of another matter – neither politics nor honour. Those two topics cannot help but lead to fighting."

There was a brief silence, in which Narcissa felt palpable foreboding. Finally, Cygnus spoke.

"Go to the parlour, my friends," he said, his voice going falsely sweet. "I'll bring Bellatrix in a minute… for your pleasure." He added the last part in a soft, almost predatory voice.

Narcissa bit her tongue, and did not speak. She could have warned Bellatrix as the men filtered out and Cygnus approached his eldest daughter, but she did not. She watched, numb and silent, when Cygnus took Bellatrix's arm, pulling her away from Rodolphus.

Rodolphus looked after her as she was taken away, and Narcissa did as well, but neither of them spoke up. Bellatrix disappeared into the sitting room with the rest of the men and did not reappear.

Narcissa had waited nervously, her mind concocting vivid and vile images of what could be happening to her eldest sister at that very moment, while she balked uselessly in the ballroom. What kind of sister was she, then, if she was allowing this to happen?

_But what if it was all innocent_? she reasoned with herself. There was no reason for her to think that anything _bad_ was happening to Bellatrix, not really. For all she knew, they were all still discussing politics, and having Bellatrix act as some sort of mediator, and if they were, Narcissa would only be making a fool of herself if she told someone that…

Perhaps she ought to go check. Just to make sure that Bellatrix was all right. Just to be _very_ sure that everything was all right – she was sure that it was, but she just needed to be _positive._ She'd just peek into the sitting room, and if everything was fine, no one need ever know. And if everything _wasn't_ fine, then… well, if everything wasn't fine, then Narcissa wasn't quite sure what she would do. But she'd do something.

She stood up, smoothing her skirt and smiling cordially at Rabastan, who was watching her absently. He inclined his head a little, but seemed to be looking straight through her and not noticing her in the slightest, which suited Narcissa quite well. If he didn't really notice her leaving, then no one would be able to ask her what she was doing.

Black Manor was quite silent out of the ballroom. Narcissa hesitated, listening carefully. She could hear her mother arguing with Maria Lestrange upstairs and winced slightly at the sound. There was a shrillness in their voices that meant that too many glasses of champagne vodka had been downed, but that was inconsequential. Even if Druella were drunk quite out of her mind – which she clearly wasn't if she still had the stubbornness to argue with Maria – she still was not the threat.

Narcissa tiptoed to the door of the sitting room and pressed her ear to the door. Silence was all she heard, but that meant little – even _she_ knew how to cast effective silencing spells. Bellatrix could have been screaming madly behind that door and no one would hear.

_No,_ _Bellatrix wasn't screaming behind the door,_ Narcissa told herself. That was nonsense.

But she would just make sure…

She gently turned the doorknob, and her heart raced when it did not turn fully. The room was locked, then. So whatever was happening inside…

Narcissa's heart began to beat faster. She tried the knob again, rattling it, then, heart pounding, she lowered herself to her hands and knees and peered beneath the crack of the door. Her eyes had just landed on her father's feet, some ways inside, when the door swung open…

)O(

"What's wrong, Cissy?" Andromeda asked when she returned to the party. "You don't look very well."

"I'm fine," Narcissa said, and it wasn't exactly untrue. She didn't feel _bad_, just… hazy. She felt hazy, as though the whole world was not quite real.

"Where did you go? I've been looking for you."

Narcissa stared blankly and rubbed her eyes. "Pardon?"

"You left the ballroom hours ago. Where were you? Oh, wait a moment…" Andromeda's eyes lit up and she leaned close with a conspiratorial smile. "Were you with Malfoy?"

"What?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

"Oh…" Narcissa shook her head slowly. She blinked and rubbed her eyes again as spots burst before them. "No. I wasn't… anywhere… I don't remember. I think I went into the parlour and fell asleep. I'm so tired… and…" She twisted her neck back and forth. "Yes, that's it, I fell asleep. My neck's all cramped up." _Badly_ cramped up too – like she had been hit across the base of it. There was a pain in her chest too, probably from lying curled up in some odd position. Funny that she couldn't remember…

"Oh." Andromeda looked disappointed. "That's a pity. I was _hoping_ you two were together… you and Lucius would make a nice couple, you know, and one that Mother and Father would approve of."

"No, we wouldn't," Narcissa said immediately. "We wouldn't make a nice couple at all. I don't want Lucius Malfoy. I don't want to get married."

"Well, not _yet_. You wouldn't have to be a couple for a while, obviously. But you'll have to get married to someone, someday, you know."

"I don't want to." Narcissa's voice rose a little, and tears stung the backs of her eyes, though she couldn't have said exactly why. "I don't want a husband."

"All right, all right." Andromeda put her hand on Narcissa's shoulder to soothe her. "Calm down. It isn't as if you need to get married right this minute. I only thought that Lucius…"

"I feel ill," Narcissa interrupted. "I want to go to bed."

Andromeda looked concerned, but touched her forehead, feeling for a fever. Narcissa closed her eyes and felt herself relax a little. Her sister's touch felt more like a mother's than Druella's did.

"Right, of course…" Andromeda whispered.

She took her little sister's arm, leading her out of the party and up the sweeping stairs of Black Manor to her bedroom. Narcissa leaned her head on Andromeda's shoulder, barely able to keep up. Her legs felt weak.

Andromeda opened the bedroom door – oh, it was so wonderfully _cool_ and dark inside – and stepped inside with Narcissa. She was the perfect picture of maternal concern – far more so than Druella had ever been.

"Hold out your arms, Cissy. I'll get your dress off."

Narcissa complied, turning around and putting her arms out so that Andromeda could undo the sash and the minute rows of buttons. She tugged the starched white lace off, letting it pool around Narcissa's feet, and then murmured, "Oh, that's it…"

"What is it?" Narcissa asked.

Andromeda said nothing, and Narcissa looked down.

There was a stain of blood upon her petticoat, and more of it on her formerly pristinely white knickers, and the very sight of it made Narcissa shudder. She loathed the sight of blood, especially _her own_ blood, and she had become all too well acquainted with it over the years. She was familiar with coughing it up when she was ill, and with the way it pooled on little cuts on her arms and legs, turning them into tiny strings of rubies until she washed them off. But never before – never – had Narcissa seen blood _there._

"Andi…" she whispered, horrified, "I'm dying…"

"No, you aren't," Andromeda said with a soft, resigned sigh. "You're menstruating, that's all. And that's why you feel all weak and sick, I expect – hasn't it happened to you before?"

"No…"

"Do you know what it is?"

She shook her head nervously.

Andromeda sat down on the bed, and took Narcissa's hands, pulling her gently down to sit beside her. "It's nothing to worry about, Cissy, it's just what happens to women. It's to have babies… do you know how babies are made?"

"No."

"Right…" Andromeda sighed. "All right. Well… I don't know how to explain it exactly," she said a little helplessly. "But you have all this blood and tissue inside you to protect the baby when you get pregnant, but if you're not pregnant, then your body doesn't need it, so it… it pushes it all out… I don't know if I'm explaining this very well," she added, with just the faintest note of distress in her voice. "It's complicated. But it's all right – you're not dying. It just happens once a month, and you put a little bit of cloth in your knickers to soak up the blood, and no one ever needs to know…"

Narcissa nodded slowly, and Andromeda kissed her gently on her forehead.

"Don't tell anyone," Narcissa whispered suddenly.

"I won't…" Andromeda assured her.

"Not even Mum, please, Andi…"

"If you don't want her to know, then I won't tell her," she said soothingly. "It's private… or, it's private until you're married, at any rate – which won't be for a long time yet," she added quickly. "Now give me a moment and I'll fetch a cloth, and then we can clean your dress…"

Narcissa sat silently as Andromeda hurried out of the room and returned a moment later with a piece of folded fabric. She took a fresh pair of knickers from Narcissa's drawer and laid the cloth inside them, then handed them to her. "Put them on."

Narcissa blushed as she shimmied out of her knickers, keeping her head bowed. She could feel Andromeda's eyes on her, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. What was Andromeda thinking when she looked at her.

Andromeda picked up her wand from their bedside table and waved it, the crimson stains slowly fading to nothing on Narcissa's white dress and knickers. Andromeda smiled gently.

"Go to bed now, Cissy," she said. "I'm going back down to the party. If you need anything, you can come down…"

"Mm," Narcissa murmured, pulling on her nightdress and crawling beneath the covers, then sat up, and whispered, "Is it supposed to hurt?"

"Pardon?"

"When I… menstruate… is it supposed to hurt?"

"Your stomach, yes," said Andromeda, nodding. "Is it your stomach that's hurting?"

Narcissa hesitated, her hand moving slowly over her belly, between her legs, then back to her belly.

"I think so," she said at last. "Mostly."

"That's all right, then." Andromeda stepped back, and Narcissa lowered her eyelids and watched through her lashes as she left the room, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind her.

The room was silent, and the sounds of the party did not carry up to Narcissa's bedroom, but she could hear the familiar sound of Bellatrix crying. She was in the attic, where she disappeared all too often and cried.

Bellatrix's tears frightened Narcissa profoundly.

She hated to think of what could make her brave big sister cry.

She lay in bed and pondered it until she was in tears from terror.


	2. Chapter 2

"How's my little girl?"

The sound of Cygnus's voice jarred Narcissa out of her sleep. She had been curled up in bed with pillows and blankets over her head, a pounding in her temples and a churning in her stomach, but when she heard her father, she sat up immediately and stroked her hair smooth, smiling up at him.

"I'm fine, Daddy," she said, as sweetly as she could manage with the stars popping before her eyes from her headache. "I feel much better than I did yesterday. I thought you had work today," she added a little doubtfully.

He sat down on the foot of her bed and Narcissa leaned back a little again, looking around the room and avoiding her father's eye. She stared unseeingly at the vase of roses that her mother had ordered be put upon her dressing table to "brighten up the room" – as if Druella ever cared about how Narcissa's room looked. The frame creaked a little as he shifted his weight upon it and stroked his daughter's leg through the blankets.

"I told the Minister I needed to stay home," he said. "I can't let my little girl stay here all alone with only the house-elves when she's ill."

"I'd have been all right, Daddy," Narcissa told him, still not meeting his eye. "You didn't need to stay away from work with me."

His eyes narrowed, and one brow twitched up in a familiar, suspicious little motion. Narcissa's heart sank.

"Don't you want me at home, then?" he asked. His voice, previously quite jovial, had taken on a dark edge. "Here I am, trying to be a good father for my little girl, and she tells me that I should leave her all alone in the care of _house-elves_." He said the words "house-elves" with so much disgust that Narcissa cringed.

"No, Daddy, that's not what I meant…" she whispered. Guilt churned in her stomach – she _hated_ upsetting him.

"What did you mean, then?" he demanded. Narcissa's lip quivered, and she shrank back, eyes down and filling with tears that she struggled to hold back. Her heart was pounding hard and fast and her legs and hands shook, though she couldn't have said exactly why.

"Only that I didn't want you to feel like you weren't a good Daddy if you left me alone at home," she said tentatively. "I know your work is important…"

"Not as important as my little girl." He kissed her forehead, perhaps with a bit more force than was entirely necessary, then sat back, looking at her. Narcissa's cheeks flamed and she could not meet his eyes.

"You're very like your mother," he said at last. "You look just like she did when we were first married."

"Thank you…" she said nervously, unsure what the proper response was. Her headache was getting worse and she wished that her father would just leave the room and _leave her alone_ so that she could curl up again and not have to think.

Cygnus leaned forward, putting his hands on either side of Narcissa's head and turning it slowly from side to side. Narcissa held her breath, frightened of doing anything to upset her father again.

"You're as beautiful as she was…" Cygnus breathed.

"Is she at home, Daddy?" Narcissa asked quietly. Her vision was clouding over with spots, and it was all she could do to even speak.

"No, darling, she isn't," whispered Cygnus. "It's just you and me, my little girl…"

His hand moved suddenly, and pressed over Narcissa's mouth and nose. It took Narcissa a moment to become aware that she couldn't breathe, and when she did, her whole body lashed out at him, twisting and writhing and trying to break her grip. She did her best to scream, but the sound came out muffled, and he was forcing her down onto the pillows, and pulling the covers back and Narcissa was crying and his hands were on her, pulling her off the bed and onto her knees on the ground and everything was going black–

"Narcissa? Narcissa, wake up!"

Narcissa's eyes snapped open. She was drenched in sweat, tangled in her blankets, and her whole body was shaking. Cygnus was leaning over, looking quite afraid, his clothes and hair slightly rumpled, though nowhere near as badly as Narcissa's own.

"Wh… wha… what happened?" she whispered brokenly.

"You were having a nightmare," he told her. "Thrashing around… are you all right?"

"I… I feel a bit ill," she said. "Not very bad, though."

"Would you like a drink? Water? Milk? Vodka?"

"No, Daddy," Narcissa said, shaking her head. There were tears in her eyes and she couldn't have said why, because her headache didn't feel as terrible as she had a little while ago. "Th- thank you, Daddy. I think I'd like to go back to sleep."

"All right," he said, standing up. "If you need anything, call for me. I don't trust my little girl's care to the house-elves," he added with a small frown, then smiled again, looking down at her indulgently. "Feel better soon, my little girl."

"Yes, Daddy," she whispered, not breathing easily until her door was shut. She sank back onto her pillows, shaking.

"It was just a dream," she told herself, whispering out loud. "Just a dream. He wouldn't hurt you."

She started to stand up to go wash her face, and winced. There was a pain in her lower belly and between her legs, and a fresh blotch of blood staining her sheets and nightdress.

_Damn it._

Narcissa's face flamed crimson, and she pulled the sheets from her bed, dragging them into the lavatory, throwing them and her nightdress into the bathtub and running cold water to wash the stain out. Water swirled pink – _the same pink as those roses in my room _– down the drain, and Narcissa found herself mesmerised by it.

She should have asked Andromeda how long she was supposed to bleed for, and how much. She hadn't bled for days, and now it was dripping down her thighs again and it _hurt._ It was disgusting, all this blood, all over, and it made Narcissa's stomach turn more even than her illness had before Cygnus came into the room. She looked up, away from it, trying to settle her stomach, but it only made things worse.

Oh dear–

Narcissa was just barely able to get to the toilet before she tasted vomit in the back of her mouth. She spat up mouthfuls of sick, hot tears coursing down her cheeks as she heaved over the bowl, wishing she had eaten so that there would be something in her stomach to dilute the acid.

For a moment, Narcissa stared at what she had thrown up. It was mostly clear liquid – she hadn't realized how long it must have been since she had eaten, if that was all there had been in her belly – but swimming in the water like great, horrible maggots or worms but _liquid_, were a few splotches of something thick and pale.

Her stomach turned again at the sight, and she quickly flushed it all away, not wanting to think about what that liquid might be.


	3. Chapter 3

"Now, be safe, Cissy," Cygnus told his daughter, helping her out of the fireplace in the deserted Hog's Head Inn. She had been at home alone, Bellatrix and Andromeda having gone back to school, for nearly two weeks now, and it could no longer be justified – Narcissa had overheard Cygnus telling Druella that people would start "talking" if she was kept home any longer. Narcissa had only the vaguest ideas of what "people talking" meant, but she knew that it was bad.

So Cygnus had taken yet more time off work to see that Narcissa arrived safely in Hogsmeade, instructing her to walk up to the school, and go to the Headmaster's office to explain that she had been ill, and that he would give her instructions about what to do to make up her classes.

"I will be, Daddy," she told him, standing up very straight while he brushed flecks of ash from her dark woollen cloak and skirt, his hands moving slowly and repeatedly over the fabric, ensuring that not a single spot of dust remain upon his daughter's clothing.

"Promise me you'll be careful," he said, dropping his hands at last. "You'll be a good girl, now won't you, Cissy? You're such a pretty little lady now… you'll start attracting boys' attention if you don't take care. You'll end up like your sisters." His voice took on a dark note at those words.

Narcissa turned crimson and looked at the ground. She didn't _want_ boys looking at her the way she had noticed them looking at Bellatrix and Andromeda – even Rodolphus and Rabastan, who Narcissa had always considered friends, she had seen ogling her sisters.

"I don't want boys' attention, Daddy," she said seriously. "I promise I'll be good so that they won't notice me."

"That's my girl," said Cygnus. He kissed her forehead, putting his hand on her hair and lingering just a moment too long before pulling back and reaching for his pouch of Floo powder to return to the manor. "Now be sure to send a letter home tomorrow morning so that we know you've arrived safely – you know how your mother worries."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl."

He threw a handful of powder into the fireplace, and ducked in, and Narcissa watched him disappear with an odd sense of relief. The second he was out of sight, her whole body seemed to relax.

_How silly_, she thought to herself. _As though Daddy would hurt me._

Narcissa took a deep breath, adopting her prettiest, most ladylike smile, and strode out of the inn and down the near-deserted street of Hogsmeade.

She had barely gone a block before she began to feel strangely nervous. She didn't like being in such an empty place as the village was at the moment – if something happened, and she tried to scream, would anyone hear? She glanced around quickly, looking for open doors and windows. The Three Broomsticks' door was opened and she saw a few people inside, which made the ever-growing knot in her stomach unclench briefly, but she found herself slowing down, unwilling to move too far away from it for fear of finding herself without anyone to come to her rescue if something happened once she was past it.

Over and over again, she glanced over her shoulders, and in shop window, for she could have sworn that someone was following her, despite there being no sound of footsteps. It was just a feeling she had, and it was frightening her badly – almost to tears…

Someone touched Narcissa's shoulder.

She screamed. Whipping around to try to fight off whoever had touched her, she lost her balance on the uneven road and went stumbling to the ground, her heart beating so fast that she could feel it hammering against her rib cage. She tried to pull herself up to run, but stars were swimming in front of her eyes, and she couldn't, she just couldn't…

The ground seemed to disappear beneath her feet. She couldn't feel her hands or feet, and all that she could see were blurry stars before her eyes. Her stomach churned violently, she tried to take a step forward, and then…

)O(

"I swear, Professor, all I did was touch her shoulder."

Narcissa was aware of someone speaking very close by. The voice was male, but a little high-pitched and shaky-sounding.

_Lucius?_

"Given the circumstances, Mr. Malfoy…" That was Albus Dumbledore's voice, Narcissa thought. And _Mr. Malfoy_… so yet, it was Lucius who was talking, "I think it would be best not to ask why you were in Hogsmeade when you should have been in Potions class…"

"I'm sorry, Professor…" Yes, that was certainly Lucius's voice, a little high and nervous and strained, but Lucius's nonetheless.

"Not at all." Professor Dumbledore sounded as serene as ever, and Narcissa heard a quiet creak of wood, indicating that he was sitting down. "It has all turned out quite for the better, I believe. So, Mr. Malfoy, with the understanding that, given the circumstances, you will not be punished for being in Hogsmeade… perhaps you could be so kind as to tell me what happened."

Narcissa held her breath while she waited for Lucius to answer.

"Well… I'd gone up to the village, Professor," he began, sounding more tentative than Narcissa had ever heard him before in her life. "I was just walking, you know, wandering around a bit, looking in the shops… and I saw Narcissa coming out of the Hog's Head. Her sisters had said she'd been sick, and she was looking a bit… a bit shaky, you know, so I thought it would be best for me to go walk with her in case she fainted…" Lucius broke off and chuckled awkwardly. "So she was walking, and I was trying to catch up with her… not really running or anything like that, just sort of walking quickly, and… well, I caught up and I touched her shoulder, and she started screaming… and then… well, she…"

"I see," said Professor Dumbledore slowly. Narcissa's heart was pounding – he sounded as though he knew something, but of course, there was no way he could know what had happened or why…

"It's quite lucky that you were the one who Miss Black met, so that you were able to bring her hear… far preferable to a stranger frightening her and leaving her lying on the streets where anyone might–"

Narcissa's eyes snapped open and she sat up quickly. Stars burst before her eyes as the blood rushed from her head and she swayed weakly, falling back onto her pillows. Blinking slowly, the room came into focus.

She was in the hospital wing.

A faint shaft of evening light shone through the crack between the curtains, falling over the floorboards and nearly touching her bed. Lucius was standing at her bedside, and Professor Dumbledore seated, looking quite at ease, in one of the rickety wooden chairs that adorned the wing.

"Narcissa." Lucius sounded deeply relieved. "You're all right! You fainted…"

"I know," she said, and her voice sounded thin and tremulous, even in comparison to how it normally was. "I heard… I don't know what happened…"

"She's ill, that is what happened!" The door to Madam Pomfrey's office swung open, and she appeared, carrying a small potion bottle and wearing her usual good-naturedly stern expression. "Her parents should have sent her straight to me; bed rest doesn't do a girl any good when what she needs is food and sunlight."

"Quite so, Poppy," Professor Dumbledore said mildly.

"Now here, dear, take this." Madam Pomfrey took Narcissa's hands and slowly pressed the bottle into them. "It will make you feel better."

She tipped it willingly into her mouth, not even pausing to ask what it was. It could have been poison for all she knew…

But it wasn't. It was thick and tasted sweet and fruity, not at all unpleasant. Madam Pomfrey waited until she had finished, then swiped the bottle from her hands. "There, now, that wasn't bad, was it?"

"No, Madam," Narcissa said meekly.

"Good. Now, if you want to get better, it won't do you any good to lie about in bed all day. You need fresh air, sunlight, and proper food. Merlin, dear, you're as thin as a stick. When was the last time you ate?"

"I'm often not hungry," Narcissa whispered, staring at her hands to avoid meeting the matron's eyes.

"Oh, of course, that's what they all say," Madam Pomfrey muttered. "Well, no more of that. You will be eating proper meals from here on out, is that clear?"

"Yes, Madam."

Madam Pomfrey gave a decisive nod, then turned and left the hospital wing once more, leaving Narcissa, Professor Dumbledore and Lucius alone.

"Well, I do think this has proven to be a very interesting way to return to school, wouldn't you say, Miss Black?" Professor Dumbledore asked mildly. "More eventful, perhaps, than would be ideal, but nonetheless…"

"What in Merlin's name _happened_ to you?" Lucius demanded, cutting across the headmaster. "You looked as though you were having a fit!"

Narcissa didn't know what to say to that. She dared not meet Lucius's eyes for fear of having to give an answer that she did not know. She hadn't the faintest idea what had happened when she was out there, why she had screamed or panicked at Lucius's touch.

"Out, out, you two!" Madam Pomfrey had stepped back in, carrying a dinner on a tray, looking quite severe. "She's going to have a proper meal for a change, and I'll keep her for the night, then she'll be back in classes tomorrow. Mr. Malfoy, if you want to ask her what happened, you will simply have to wait until tomorrow! Professor…"

"Quite so, Poppy." Professor Dumbledore stood up. "It is, after all, your hospital wing, and if it would be best for Miss Black to be left alone…"

"Thank you, Professor," said Madam Pomfrey, then she turned her attention to Narcissa, setting the tray down on her lap, smoothing out her sheets so that the corners were pristinely sharp, then overlooking the whole effect and giving a decisive nod. "Now eat!"

"I'm not hungry," Narcissa muttered. The food looked delicious, easily as good as anything from home – a steaming bowl of soup and fresh bread and _oh, God, she wanted to eat_, but no, she couldn't.

"Nonsense!"

"I'm sorry, Madam…"

"There will be no 'I'm sorry, Madam'ing around here! You will _eat!_"

Tears prickled Narcissa's eyes, and she managed a small nod, picking up her spoon and dipping it into the soup. Madam Pomfrey watched her for a few moments, then, apparently satisfied, turned and returned to her office.

Narcissa felt like there was a hollow in the very pit of her stomach. She could have inhaled the whole bowl of soup and all the bread and it would have even begun to fill. But she did not inhale – she picked listlessly at the food, tearing the bread into crumbs and sprinkling them into the soup then pulling them out with her spoon and nibbling at that. It was torturous, for everything in her body was screaming for her to _eat, eat, EAT!_, but she breathed deeply, and remembered that Daddy had taught her not to be gluttonous.

_Daddy._

She would have to write him a letter before she was let out of the hospital wing, so that she could post it very first thing tomorrow morning. Daddy would be worried if he didn't hear from her quickly, after all – worried that she had been hurt (_she had_), or worried that someone had seen her in the village and stolen her away…

Narcissa shuddered at that thought.

But she couldn't write. She didn't have any parchment or quills – her trunk had stayed at school over the holidays and was presumably still in her dormitory, with all her things in it.

Perhaps she could request some writing materials from Madam Pomfrey. Or she ask one of her sisters to bring parchment for her – surely they would hear from Lucius where she was and what had happened and come to see her…

_Oh dear._

Narcissa's stomach churned and she set down the spoon, pressing her hand to her flat belly. He _would_ be spreading gossip all over… telling people that Narcissa Black had fainted – perhaps even speculating as to why.

She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, meaning only to take a moment to steady her nerves – and her stomach – by shutting away outside stimuli. She needed to calm down – constant worrying would do her no good.

There was a trick she had learned long ago, when she had been little and suffered unending nightmares and insomnia. She would close her eyes and picture her closet, the one in her bedroom at home, go through each garment that hung there, and, in her mind, count the buttonholes on each. The task was tedious enough that it calmed her, but took enough thought that she could focus upon it.

Andromeda had introduced the trick to her originally, but in a cruder form. She, Andromeda, had told her to count the buttonholes on Daddy's favourite jacket.

Narcissa far preferred her method.

She lay in her bed in the hospital wing, eyes closed, the tray with soup and bread still resting over her legs, and pictured her rows of clothing. Thank god she had so many – it would take her a good deal of time to go through all of them, more than enough to calm herself down with.

She started at one end, with her china blue "dinner" dress. It was a garment she was expected to wear when both her parents deigned to dine with their daughters – a mercifully rare event, for the dress was old and a sixe too small for Narcissa, despite her slimness. She despised changing into it.

It was not an intricate dress – just starched blue linen, decorated with small roses embroidered in white, with a small frill of lace at the hem and one more on each sleeve, and a last little bit around the throat, and a wide white silk sash, but all up the back, from the waist, where the sash would tie, right up to the back of the neck, were white mother-of-pearl buttons, barely the size of Narcissa's littlest fingernail, and those were what she was concerned with.

_One, two, three, four, five…_

There was a soft noise from nearby – presumably from Madam Pomfrey's office, and it was enough to jolt Narcissa out of her imaginings. Best to start again.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven… seven…_

Oh, but she was so tired. She'd stop counting for just a moment, to rest…

When Narcissa awoke, shivering, her head had lolled uncomfortably to the side, and there was an unpleasant, not unfamiliar, wet, warm-yet-cold feeling spreading over her lap.

Her eyes snapped open. Her first reaction was to assume she had spilled the soup – stupid Narcissa, going to sleep with a bowl of soup in her lap – but no. The tray had slid off her lap, but the bowl was overturned upon the ground and a puddle spreading out around it. It could not have spilled on her lap, then.

She caught a whiff of a light, vaguely acrid smell, and she actually felt blood drain from her face. Oh God… not this again.

Narcissa's throat tightened a little. The dampness in the sheets had gone icy cold, and she felt a familiar creeping sensation in her belly and between her thighs.

Before Narcissa could think what to do – did she dare wake Madam Pomfrey up so that she could be privy to her mortification or would she be better off trying to wash the sheets herself? – the door banged open. Narcissa shrieked and Madam Pomfrey came rushing out.

Bellatrix and Andromeda were in the doorway, Bellatrix looking ready to kill, and Andromeda, very meek.

"Out!" Madam Pomfrey ordered, the moment she caught sight of them. "Unless both of you are very ill, _get to your beds!_ Have you _any idea what time it is!_"

"Why didn't anyone tell us that our sister was back?" Bellatrix demanded. Her eyes were flashing in the dark, and Narcissa could see her clenching her fists. "Didn't anyone think that that might matter to us? Why didn't anyone tell us that she was _in the hospital_, for that matter? Lucius said that Dumbledore had seen her, why didn't he let us know? Why in the name of Merlin did he think that we wanted to hear the news from _Lucius bloody Malfoy?_"

"I'm sure that if the headmaster thought it important for you to know, he would have told you," Madam Pomfrey said, but Bellatrix was clearly not listening. She shoved past her and marched up to Narcissa's bedside.

"What happened, Cissy?" she demanded.

"N- Nothing!" squeaked Narcissa, shrinking back from her sister. She shifted the sheets, trying to cover the wet patches as best she could, and felt oddly defensive, though she had no reason to be. It was not her fault that she had fainted after all… or, at any rate, not _wholly_ her fault.

"Don't even try to tell me that nothing happened! If nothing had happened, _you wouldn't be in the hospital, would you_?" Bellatrix's voice had risen to a scream.

Tears filled Narcissa's eyes anew, and she had to struggle to keep her face from crumpling, though her lower lip wobbled. Bellatrix sounded so very like their father when she shouted…

"You are disturbing her!" Madam Pomfrey raged. "Sisters or not, this is no way to behave around a girl who is ill, and I will not tolerate it in my hospital wing! If you cannot be any more civil to her than this, I will have you sent to the headmaster!"

"Yes, do that!" Bellatrix shouted, turning around and facing Madam Pomfrey, everything in her posture and tone speaking of sheer fury. "Take me up to see him! Then I shall ask him why he chose not to alert me when my sister was brought in! I hope he has a _bloody good answer!_"

Madam Pomfrey seemed to swell up. She looked like a cat bristling for a fight, but Bellatrix's lip only curled. "He doesn't frighten me, you know! I would love to hear his explanation!"

"And you shall get it!" Madam Pomfrey grabbed Bellatrix's arm and all but dragged her out. She left Andromeda and Narcissa alone, Andromeda quivering a little and Narcissa all but in tears of silent hysteria.

Andromeda stood still for a long moment, and Narcissa shook in the sheets, then Andromeda turned and hurried to her little sister's side. She drew her wand quickly, and before Narcissa could say anything – either in protest or in her own defence – Andromeda pointed it at the sheets. Narcissa could feel the wetness disappear from them the way that a spill of liquid would disappear from a skirt or a sheet when they were laid out in the sun on a hot summer's day…

"Have you been having nightmares again?" Andromeda asked quietly.

Narcissa swallowed hard and nodded, twisting her hands in her lap and watching her nails dig into her pale flesh so that she wouldn't have to meet her sister's eyes. Andromeda was one of very few who Narcissa dared confide in.

"The same ones?" she asked

"Yes." Her voice was barely a whisper, more a breath, but Andromeda heard, and she leaned forward, cradling her little sister against her.

"It's all right, Cissy. They're just dreams. They can't hurt you. No one can hurt you, do you understand, Cissy?"

Narcissa suddenly felt incredibly tired – beyond tired, exhausted. She could have fallen asleep that instant in her sister's arms, and she just barely managed to keep her eyes open. "I'm scared…" she murmured. "I don't want him to hurt me…"

"Who?" Andromeda whispered.

The second the question was asked, Narcissa's throat closed up. She shook her head quickly, indicating she could give no answer, and Andromeda sighed, with a mix of exasperation, sympathy and indulgence.

"He's not going to hurt you," she said, stroking Narcissa's hair with an almost motherly touch. "I promise. He's never going to hurt you."

"Never?" Narcissa managed, though it came out as a choked little croak.

"Never."

"Promise?"

Andromeda hesitated for just a second, then nodded. "I promise."

Andromeda sat at her little sister's side until Madam Pomfrey came back – without Bellatrix now – and shooed her out, insisting that Narcissa would be able to speak to her at breakfast tomorrow.

"Now," she said, turning sternly upon Narcissa after Andromeda had gone, "for Heaven's sake, Miss Black, go too _sleep_!"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Narcissa told her meekly. She laid down and rested her head upon the pillow, narrowing her eyes to slits so that Madam Pomfrey would think them closed. She forced her breath to go as slow and even as that of a sleeping person, and then watched through her lowered lashes until Madam Pomfrey disappeared back into her study and Narcissa was left alone once more.

She rolled over onto her back and stared out the infirmary window. A sliver of light had just begun to glow along the horizon – dawn was coming soon, then. There was no point in going back to sleep – she would only have to wake soon and then hurry to classes. No more sleep for her.

Narcissa sat up in bed and hugged her legs, resting her chin upon her knees and staring out the window while the sky slowly lightened, going from black to grey to lighter grey. The sunlight had a cold, brittle look to it, signalling that the day to come would be bitingly cold, even though the sun would blind any who dared to look outside at it.

_The sun's like me_, Narcissa thought, not caring how melancholy and self-pitying the idea sounded, even to herself. _It's pretty, and looks ever so nice from a distance, but it's cold…_

She shivered.

_I wonder if it's cold for the same reason that I am,_ she thought, then wondered what on earth she could mean by that.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: The beautiful, beautiful art for this story is now posted at evian-fork**DOT**livejournal**DOT**com/101868**DOT**html – evan_fork did an incredible job and I urge you to go admire it!

My own for the story is here: farm8**DOT**staticflickr**DOT**com/7050/6895044623_0acd8244b9_z**DOT**jpg

dragon_gypsy is creating a fanmix for it, which will be linked as well when completed.

)O(

Narcissa did not look at Madam Pomfrey when she came out of her study after the sun had risen. She – Narcissa – had not moved in all the time she had spent watching the sunrise, only sat and gazed out the window and dreaded going down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"How are you feeling?" Madam Pomfrey asked, bustling about, fluffing Narcissa's pillows and then stooping to clean up last night's spilled soup. Narcissa's stomach turned as the matron cleared up the congealed broth from the floorboards. A pale film had formed over the soup, and Narcissa found herself staring at it, so transfixed that she did not realize that she had been spoken to until Madam Pomfrey straightened again and looked at her expectantly. "Well?"

"Pardon me?"

"I asked how you were feeling," she said with a touch more impatience. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh…" Narcissa blushed a little and bowed her head, letting her hair fall down over her face as if that would conceal her lie. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey. I slept very well, thank you."

"Hmm." She gave Narcissa a slightly suspicious look, but said nothing. "Good, then. You'd best be going down for breakfast." She pulled the sheets back.

"Breakfast? Oughtn't- oughtn't I stay here a little longer?" Narcissa asked tentatively. She had been hoping to prolong the time before she would have to see Lucius Malfoy again as much as possible, but Madam Pomfrey shook her head sharply.

"You're not ill, so I can't keep you here. Now go to your dormitory, get your things together for class, and be sure that you eat plenty, get fresh air and exercise, and drink enough water. Simple things. Your health won't improve if you neglect it."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Narcissa murmured, her cheeks flooding with colour. She managed to get out of bed, then sketched a small, polite curtsey, as her mother had taught her and hurried out, slipping her shoes onto her feet and tugging yesterday's skirt straight as she went.

The walk from the hospital wing down to the Slytherin common room seemed unbearably long, and Narcissa was sure that she felt the eyes of every person she passed boring into her. Her cheeks were on fire, though surely no one knew…

But what if they did? If Lucius had gone and gossiped about her arrival to her sisters, what if he had spoken to other students about it too? What if he knew more about what had happened than he was letting on? What if he knew why she had fainted…?

_Now Narcissa,_ she chided mentally, _how could he? How could he know when you don't even know yourself? You're being silly, Narcissa._

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind as best she could, keeping her head down and hurrying down to the common room in the dungeons. She avoided people's eyes as she stepped inside and made for the girls' dormitory. A few people greeted her, but she did not respond, and scarcely dared to breathe until she was alone.

Her school trunk was still at the foot of her bed, where she had left it at the beginning of the winter. She unlocked it, and looked with some relief at the untouched contents – carefully folded blouses, skirts and robes, handkerchiefs monogrammed with her initials and a sachet of rose petals tucked in to keep things smelling sweet. Her bag was stowed tidily in the corner, and she grabbed it up, locked the trunk once more, then rushed out, once again ignoring greetings from other students.

She was almost out of the common room before she felt someone grab her arm.

Narcissa dropped her books immediately, and they fell to the floor with a crash. Her body instantly curled in on itself, and she threw her free arm up to protect her face while she struggled with all her might against the person who had grabbed her arm. They let go immediately and she went sprawling on the floor, tears filling her eyes both from fear and from the pain of her bony body making contact with the stone floor.

"Dear God, Narcissa!"

It was Bellatrix's voice, thank God. She sounded impatient, annoyed, perhaps even a little bit angry, but she did not sound _dangerous_, and she _did_ sound familiar, and that was all that Narcissa cared about. She looked up at her sister with wide, eyes, trying as hard as she could to force back tears.

"What was that for?" Bellatrix asked, and her voice softened a little when she saw the look on Narcissa's face. "You look a mess, Narcissa – why did they let you out of the hospital wing if you're in this state."

"I didn't want to stay in there," Narcissa told her immediately. It would be easier to say that then tell her that she wasn't really sick, and Bellatrix must have believed her, because she shrugged her shoulders slightly.

"Well, of course you didn't want to. No one ever wants to stay in the hospital wing – why would they?" she asked, and from her tone, Narcissa immediately felt her insides shrivel with embarrassment for saying something so _stupid_. Bellatrix made her feel stupid far too often, she thought, probably without ever meaning to do it.

"But," Bellatrix continued, "if you're going to be squealing and throwing your arms up and dropping everything every time someone touches you, then I think you probably ought to be in the hospital, not out here. Wouldn't you say?"

Narcissa swallowed and nodded. "I'm sorry, Bella."

"Oh, don't be sorry." Bellatrix held out her hand and Narcissa took it, helping herself to her feet, all while she trembled nervously. Her voice softened into a quiet, almost comforting tone. "Would you like me to take you back up?"

"No! No." Narcissa shook her head vehemently. "I'll be all right."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," she said, though of course she was anything but. She swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "I suppose… I'm just a little bit shaky, that's all. I probably… I probably just need to eat, is all. I'm fine."

Bellatrix nodded, and let Narcissa go, and Narcissa started up the stairs, clutching her bag to her chest and repeating, like a quiet, painful mantra in her brain, _I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine._

But no matter how many times she thought it, or even how many times she whispered it under her breath in the hopes that that would convince her more, she couldn't even begin to bring herself to believe it.

If anything, she thought, staring at the ground while her lips moved still in the shape of the words _I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine_, the more she thought it, the less she was able to believe it.

If anything, she thought, with every repetition, she could only make herself believe that she was less fine than anyone could ever know.

She could only make herself believe that she was less fine than even _she_ knew.

And that terrified her.

Narcissa looked at no one as she crept into the Great Hall, keeping her head bent so that her long, pale hair shielded her face. She took her usual seat at the end of the Slytherin table and hoped that no one would notice her and ask how she was or worse – where she had been. If Narcissa had known how to disappear entirely, she would have willingly done it.

But she could not disappear. She could only sit and hope, and hoping did little good.

She had only just sat down when Lucius Malfoy marched over to her and sat beside her. "Narcissa."

_God, not him; anyone but him._

Narcissa raised her head and managed a small, shaky smile. "Oh, hello, Lucius," she said, in a sweet, perky little voice of the sort that she used with her father, which she hoped would convince him entirely that there was nothing wrong with her – that there could be nothing wrong with her – that she was just the happiest girl in the world, and that she had most certainly not fainted yesterday for any reason that would be of even the slightest interest to him.

It did not work. Lucius was looking at her with a very serious expression, clearly not put off at all by her sweet, sugared tone or smile.

"What happened yesterday?" he demanded, and she flinched a bit. Even though she had been fully expecting questions to that effect, she had not been prepared for such bluntness. Lucius was not often blunt – he usually spoke with such eloquent grace and tact that it could be quite impossible to grasp his meaning.

"Pardon me?" Narcissa asked politely, then, in an attempt to distract him, "won't you have some pumpkin juice?" She reached for the pitcher, but Lucius grabbed her hand, stilling it.

"Don't try that, Narcissa," he told her. "Do you think I'm really stupid enough to be distracted that easily?"

She blushed a bit, trying to pull out of his grasp. His hand was too strong, and it made her heart pound in fear for reasons she could not explain. "Please let go of me, Lucius," she told him, trying to sound composed but managing only cold and nervous. "Of course I don't think that you're stupid."

"Well, then…" He let go of her wrist but didn't take his eyes off her, "tell me what happened yesterday."

"You know as much as I do. I fainted, that's all." She sounded more defensive than she had intended to, and tried to calm herself. "I'm still a bit sick, I suppose. I hadn't eaten a proper breakfast."

"Don't try that on me, Narcissa!" His voice was a great deal sharper than she would have liked, and she cringed away from him. "If you had been sick or hungry, you would have been walking slowly, and you wouldn't have just _happened _to faint the second that I touched your arm. I _know_ how fainting works, Narcissa; I've been around enough Pureblood girls, and they're always passing out at the drop of a bloody hat."

"You just startled me, that's all," Narcissa said quietly, and Lucius snorted.

"You really _do_ think I'm stupid, don't you? You expect me to believe that just being startled made you pass out in the street?"

"It did!"

"If it startled you that much," Lucius said, quietly, seriously, in a much darker voice than Narcissa was comfortable with hearing, especially from him, "then there's something wrong. Something _very_ wrong, Narcissa, and don't try for another minute to tell me that it's _nothing_."

"But it _is_ nothing," Narcissa insisted, her voice trembling. "Really, Lucius, it's nothing to worry about." _And it's none of your business in any case_, she added viciously in her mind, but didn't say it and forced herself to smile a bit. "Nothing at all."

Lucius shook his head. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

_Yes, I do. Please believe it._

"Well, why wouldn't you?" she asked with a small, innocent laugh.

"Because it's not true!" he barked.

Narcissa took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, squeezing her hands into fists beneath the table and digging her nails into her palms until she felt sticky wetness around them. The pain was not unpleasant – she felt a little clearer for it, a little less harried and less worried about what Lucius thought.

"I assure you, it quite is," she told him, as pleasantly as she could manage. "But if you don't want to believe me, then I don't suppose that there's anything that I can do about it. I'm dreadfully sorry that you think something's wrong with me, because I can promise you that nothing is."

Lucius glared at her for a moment, and Narcissa looked back, with a sweet, pleasant little smile. Finally, he let out an impatient huff of air and stood up.

"All right," he said. "All right. I was hoping that I could help you – and I _could_, if you'd just let me – but clearly you don't want my help."

_Too right, I don't_.

"So I'll just be going," he told her, then turned and stormed off with all the dignity that he could muster.

Narcissa let out a sigh of relief when he was gone, wiping her forehead slightly and closing her eyes. She inhaled deeply, trying to draw air into lungs that, she realized only now, she had been all but clenching. She hadn't even known that it was _possible_ to clench one's lungs.

"You look wretched, Cissy," Andromeda said, slipping into the seat beside her.

"So everyone keeps telling me," said Narcissa, allowing herself to sound a bit sulky this time. Andromeda was one person who Narcissa felt able to relax around – even with Bellatrix, Narcissa was constantly keeping herself stiff and steady or else she would be teased for babyishness.

"Because it's the truth. You're grey, Cissy…" She put her hand on Narcissa's cheek, and Narcissa flinched away from her touch.

"Don't touch–"

"For Merlin's sake, you're freezing! You must have a chill…"

"If I had a chill, I'd be feverish. You know that, Andi. I'm just a little bit cold," Narcissa told her, then added, "I'm fine."

_You're saying that an awful lot, aren't you, Narcissa?_

"No, you're not," Andromeda said firmly. "You can't fool me, Cissy. You are _not_ fine."

Narcissa opened her mouth to protest, but Andromeda slapped her hand over it, shutting her up. "Now listen to me," she said in a low, serious voice. "You don't have to tell me what's the matter, because you're obviously not going to be doing that. But I know _something_ is."

Narcissa didn't say anything, and Andromeda nodded slightly. "Right. All right, I said you didn't have to tell me. But take my advice, all right, Cissy?"

She nodded mutely.

"You don't need to tell anyone else," Andromeda said quietly. "You don't need to tell anyone about what's bothering you – not me, not Bellatrix, not Lucius, not Dumbledore, _no one_, but…"

"But?" asked Narcissa in a tiny voice.

"But you should at least tell _yourself_ what's wrong," said Andromeda. "All right? You need to at least know what's wrong with yourself. And… I think… I think you're not quite sure, are you?"

"Don't be stupid, Andi," Narcissa said. Her whole body was trembling violently, and it was all she could do to stop herself from breaking into hysterical tears. "I know that nothing's wrong."

"But that isn't true," Andromeda told her simply. "Anyone can see it – there's something _very_ wrong. Don't pretend that there isn't anymore; I don't want to hear it. So listen, Narcissa, I don't need you… don't even want you to tell me what it is, but… think about it, all right? I think you'll feel better once you've worked it out."

Andromeda stood up then, turning away and leaving her sister alone at the table. Narcissa sat for a moment, then she felt her stomach heaving, heaving up into her throat, enough to make her vomit on the spot, and she leapt to her feet, rushing out of the hall, ignoring the stares of the other students. Halfway to the lavatory, she tripped over an uneven patch of stone and fell to her knees, scraping them on the floor. Her stomach was twisting in her throat, and all she could do was heave herself to the side of the hall and vomit.

She hadn't eaten anything for so long – save that bit of soup in the hospital wing – and acid burned her throat and mouth as it came up. It felt good – much better than keeping it down had felt, at any rate – but her cheeks flushed with humiliation.

Narcissa glanced from side to side, then grabbed her wand from her bag, pointing it at the corner where she had heaved up a mouthful of acid.

"Scourgify," she said quietly, and it disappeared, much to her relief. She managed to get to her feet and stumble away, down to the lavatory, and she knelt down in front of the toilet and tried to spit up the rest of her vomit.

No more came.

She stabbed her fingers down her throat, gagging until her mouth filled with acid again. Her stomach tightened and she spat it into the water until her eyes were full of tears and her whole body felt pleasantly clean and empty.

Narcissa stood up, flushing the toilet, then went to the sinks and splashed cold water on her face. She combed her long, pale hair back into place with her fingers, then cupped a bit of water in her hands to rinse her mouth with. When she was done, she smiled sweetly at herself in the mirror, practicing.

"I'm terribly sorry that I'm late, Professor," she said softly, practicing her most angelic smile.

Yes, she thought, when she smiled like that, no one would ever dare to tell her off. She was such a sweet, perfect little Pureblood girl, and she demanded respect.

She demanded respect from _everyone._

Yes, she did. She _did_ demand respect from everyone.

Composed, Narcissa turned and strode out of the lavatory, quite sure that she was the perfect example of a girl, and – aside from perhaps a little exhaustion and illness – there was nothing at all wrong with her.

No matter what Andromeda said.


	5. Chapter 5

The spring term rushed past in a blur of dull little school assignments and idle gossip and other such insignificant things. Narcissa did her best to make herself busy with schoolwork and avoid the other students – with the exceptions of her sisters – to the best of her abilities. Occasionally, she caught Andromeda giving her odd, searching looks, but she hadn't said anything more about 'knowing what was wrong with herself', and Narcissa certainly wasn't going to bring it up. After all, she hadn't been sick again since she had gotten back to school. Not _really_ sick, at least – she had gone to the lavatory sometimes and stuck her fingers down the back of her throat until she threw up when she was feeling unwell, to get whatever was in her stomach out before it did make her sick, but that wasn't the same thing.

She didn't faint again until the night before they were meant to go home.

Narcissa was out walking with Andromeda, strolling the grounds and enjoying them one more time before they went home from the summer, talking about nothing in particular.

"I'm so glad the year's over," Andromeda commented idly. "It feels like it's been a long time, doesn't it?"

"Yes," agreed Narcissa. She felt a little tired, but quite content, and was glad to be with her sister, just walking and talking. It didn't _really_ feel to her as though it had been such a terribly long time, but she agreed because she knew she was supposed to.

"And it's been a while since we got letters from home," Andromeda continued. "I haven't gotten a letter from Father for weeks, have you?"

"I… oh… no." Narcissa blinked. A small starburst had popped in front of her eyes, and she shook her head a bit, trying to clear it. A peculiar feeling twisted her stomach and she laid one hand lightly on it.

"I hope he's all right."

"Mm… me too…" She stopped walking and rubbed her forehead a bit.

"Do you feel sick, Narcissa?" Andromeda asked. Narcissa was aware of a slightly suspicious note in her voice, but she didn't have time to dwell on it, because her vision was clouding over completely, and she felt the sickening realization of what was about to happen.

"Y- yes… I'm going to…" Narcissa grabbed out wildly, catching Andromeda around the neck and clinging to her as her knees gave out. She was vaguely aware of Andromeda's strong, warm arms wrapping about her waist, and then she lost all sense of contact and reality.

She was aware of blurry shapes and colours, and everything looked as though she was watching from several different angles, all outside herself. She tried to make her mouth move, but it was like trying to make an inanimate object move without magic, and when she finally came to properly, she was lying flat on her back on the grass with Andromeda kneeling over her, sponging her forehead.

"Andi?" she whispered. Her mouth was dry.

"I'm here, Cissy… I'm here…" Andromeda stroked her cheek comfortingly. "It's all right, you just fainted…"

"I… I know, I…" A flush had risen in Narcissa's face, and she could feel the heat of her own skin, radiating off her flesh. "I don't know what came over me… can you help me up, Andi, please?" she added quietly, reaching for her.

Andromeda looped her arms around her little sister and heaved her to her feet, steadying her by holding her waist. There were tears in Narcissa's eyes from the shame of it all. "I… I'd thought I wasn't fainting anymore," she said in a small voice. "I haven't, not since…"

"Since you came back to Hogwarts after winter holidays."

"That's right…"

Andromeda was giving her sister an extremely suspicious look now, and that did nothing to help the flush of shame that was creeping without explanation up Narcissa's face. "What are you looking at me like that for?" she demanded, voice shaking.

"Like what?"

"Like I've done something wrong! I didn't mean to faint, you know!"

"I know you didn't," said Andromeda, blinking. "Why would I think that, Cissy?"

"I don't know, but you're looking at me like you do! Stop it!"

"For God's sake, Narcissa…"

Narcissa dashed tears from her eyes, looking down. "I'm- sorry, Andi…"

"You need to go to bed, Cissy," Andromeda said quietly, and Narcissa was all too willing to drape herself about her big sister's shoulders and let her half walk, half carry her back to the school.

Andromeda took her inside, glaring at the people who raised their eyebrows at Narcissa, helping her down the stairs to the common room in the dungeons and then up to her dormitory. She laid her gently in bed, not even giving her a chance to undress and simply pulling the blankets over her.

"Just sleep, Cissy," Andromeda said quietly. "We can go home tomorrow and rest properly and take your medicine, and then everything will be all right."

Tears rose in Narcissa's eyes and she couldn't think why. _I don't want to go home_, she wanted to whisper to herself, but she didn't know why she didn't. She couldn't tell Andromeda that she didn't want to go home either – Andromeda would ask why and Narcissa wouldn't have an explanation, and her sister, the one person who she was sure truly loved her, would think that she had gone mad. So she just nodded, closed her eyes before her tears could fall, and turned over and tried to sleep.

She felt the bed creak after a few seconds, when Andromeda stood up, and heard quiet footsteps as she started towards the door, but before the door even closed, Narcissa heard someone speaking quietly to Andromeda. It was Lucius's voice, unless she was much mistaken, and that made Narcissa's ears prick up. She drew in a sharp breath and held it, lying as still as she could, digging her nails into the sheets and straining to hear what was being said.

"She just fainted," Andromeda was saying softly, in a voice mixed with concern and exasperation. "That's all. I don't know what's the matter with her. We were out walking, and one moment she was fine, and the next, she was staggering all over the place and falling on the ground."

"Maybe she's pretending," Lucius suggested, and Narcissa bristled at the accusation. How _dare_ he say that? She was certainly not pretending, and the very idea made her feel like slapping him. _Why would she ever want to do that?_ she wanted to demand of him.

"She wasn't faking," Andromeda told him. Narcissa's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile at her sister's defence of her – that was right. Andromeda had seen. She knew that Narcissa wouldn't have pretended something like that. "That's what worries me, though," she added, and the smile slipped from Narcissa's mouth as quickly as it had come.

"What do you mean? Surely she's a bit just sick, then–"

"If she was faking it, I would know she was doing it for attention… poor thing, Bellatrix _does_ get all the intention in the house, so it wouldn't be quite unreasonable of her – just a little selfish and childish. But as it is…"

"As it is what?"

"Well, she's obviously _not_ faking it. I could just tell – you can't fake that sort of thing…"

"All right, then," Lucius said, "if you're so sure that she isn't pretending – and I'm not convinced, Andromeda, you should know that I'm not – but if she isn't pretending, then what do you think it is?"

"I don't know," Andromeda told him. "But I don't think she's sick."

Narcissa didn't want to listen to any more. No, even more than that, she simply _couldn't_ listen to any more. Her ears had filled with an unpleasant rushing sound that made it quite impossible to hear. She buried her face in the pillow and tears oozed from her eyes until the fabric was damp and cool against her face.

She did not sleep that night. Every time she tried to drift off, something deep inside her would jolt her back awake and she would have to sit up and rub her eyes and remind herself to stay awake.

_What for?_

Narcissa didn't know – not at all – why she couldn't let herself go to sleep. She had an odd, queasy feeling in her stomach that suggested that she might have nightmares if she did, but nightmares were nothing that she was unused to. She had them quite regularly, and woke up sweaty and shaking and unable to remember exactly what they had been about, but she always got over them and got back to sleep and didn't have to suffer through them again once she did. Even when she did get the feeling in her stomach that indicated that she would have them – which was quite often – it didn't _always_ mean that she would, and she'd never let it keep her awake before.


	6. Chapter 6

When dawn finally came, it was the most profound of reliefs to her to be able to get up, to dress and pack her last few things into her trunk. Narcissa was down in the common room before anyone else had even begun to stir, and it was a thousand times more pleasant to sit and wait for her sisters there than to lie in bed.

She had been curled on the couch, staring into the dying embers of the fire and running through a mental checklist of all the things that she had to have done before she left – _ask Andromeda for my scarf back, thank Rabastan for helping me with potions homework, make sure that my books are packed at the bottom of my trunk so they won't wrinkle my clothes_ – when Rodolphus Lestrange strode downstairs and took a seat beside her.

"Hello," she said politely, looking up at him with a small smile.

Narcissa didn't know Rodolphus very well – she knew that he was going to be engaged to Bellatrix, knew that he was a dull sort of boy who was of very little interest to her in general, and knew – from whispers that she had overheard from her parents – that he was rumoured to be (as they said) _too close_ to his brother, but she didn't know a thing about his personality, or what he cared about, besides money, his brother and Bellatrix.

"Hello, Narcissa," he said, in a rather warm voice, and she found her smile becoming more genuine. At least he was pleasant to her, and he had a bit of a way of talking that made her feel more at ease than she usually did when she had to talk to other people.

"You're up early," she said, then winced. _God_, but she sounded stupid. And childish, horrendously childish. Obviously he was up early. She had been up even earlier – what was she _saying_?

"I wanted to talk to you."

Narcissa frowned, stiffening a little. She wasn't even aware of it, but when he said that, she automatically shifted away from him.

"M- me?" she asked in a soft, stammering voice. "Wh- what- what do you w- w- want to talk to me for?"

"Bellatrix is worried about you."

"Sh- she is?" Narcissa's heart was beating so hard and so fast that she was sure that it must have been visibly shifting her clothing. "W- well- why is she worried about me? I'm fine…"

_Always saying you're fine, Narcissa, always saying you're fine…_

"Yes, she is," Rodolphus told her. He was staring at her hard, with a searching look that made Narcissa even more uncomfortable than she already felt. "She's very worried. She thinks that you're sick, you know, Narcissa."

"Sick?" she asked innocently. "Why- why would she ever think that? I'm not sick. I've- I've been healthier than ever," she added, a flush rising in her cheeks when she thought about meals that she had skipped and others that she had vomited back up. _But Bellatrix couldn't know about those, and, in any case, that doesn't make me sick. It's just because I can't eat as much as other people, and that's only because I can be a bit delicate sometimes,_ she told herself. _That's what Father says. That's what Father always says._

"I don't know why she thinks it," Rodolphus told her, and she could tell from the particularly stoic and impassive expression on his face that he was trying very hard not to snap at her or say anything that might upset her. _At least, she hoped that that was what that expression meant_. "All I know is that she does think it, and it must be rather bad if it upsets Bellatrix. You know what she's like."

"Of course I know what she's like," Narcissa said, not without a bit of a snap in her voice. "I'm her sister. I daresay that I know her quite a bit better than you do," she added, frowning. For all Rodolphus's pleasantness a few moments ago, there was a creeping sort of ache in Narcissa's throat now, and she was quite sure that it was entirely because of him.

"I'm sure that you do," Rodolphus said, sounding entirely unfazed. "But obviously, you don't know her quite as well as you'd like to think on this particular subject, because you're upsetting her, and I don't imagine that you want to do that… since, because you know her so well, you know what she's like when she's upset."

"Of course I don't want to upset her!"

"Good," Rodolphus said. "Then you'll listen to me, won't you? You'll listen to me, because I'm going to tell you how to stop her from being upset with you."

Narcissa nodded, twisting her hands together in her lap. "All right," she said quietly, though she was thinking _how dare you try to tell me how to stop my sister from being upset? How dare you intrude on our relationship at all? You're nothing to do with me, you're only her boyfriend and her fiancé – that doesn't make you an expert on her and everything about her!_ But she kept that to herself and gave Rodolphus her most pleasant smile. "Do tell."

"Right," he said briskly. "Well, first off, you should stop fainting all over the place."

"_Pardon me_?" Narcissa bristled. "You act as though it's my fault! Do you think that I like – as you put it – _fainting all over the place_? It's not exactly _fun_ to be walking along and suddenly not be able to see or to breathe and to fall over- do you really think that I'm just doing it to bother Bellatrix?"

"No, of course I don't think that," Rodolphus told her, rather irritably. "Now, perhaps you've managed to forget this, but I have a brother – actually, I don't imagine you _could_ forget it, seeing as how you're always getting homework from him – and he has fainting spells too. Let me tell you, Narcissa, they are _much_ worse than the ones you have. Sometimes they're bad enough to knock him unconscious for days. But do you know? He does things to stop them. He takes potions. From what Bellatrix has told me, you do _not_ do this. Isn't that right?"

"I… well, yes, that's right. I don't take potions, at least- well, not at school. But–"

"All right," Rodolphus said, "so you're letting yourself _go on_ fainting all over the place, so you're at fault for that."

"I am not!"

"And that's not the point in any case," Rodolphus continued, cutting across her. "The other thing you should do is… whatever it is that's been driving you mad all year – and don't even pretend that there isn't something, because I've seen it, Andromeda's seen it, Lucius has seen it, Rabastan's making himself half-insane over it, and Bellatrix is about ready to torture you until you tell her what it is – just _tell someone_. Now, I don't care who it is, and I certainly don't want it to be me," he added before Narcissa could say anything, "because, as you've made very clear, you aren't really any of my business, but you do need to tell someone. Believe me. You do."

"Don't tell me what I need to do!"

"For God's sake, Narcissa, it _isn't me telling you_," he snapped. "It's me telling you for Bellatrix's sake! Do you think I really give a _fuck_ about _your_ health? I care about Bellatrix! I mean it when I say that she's about ready to torture you over it, and it's just getting worse, and you can't expect any of the rest of us to be able to help unless you tell someone what it is!"

There were tears in Narcissa's eyes, and she dashed them away roughly with the backs of her hands. "You can't talk to me this way!"

"I will talk to you any damn way I please!" Rodolphus all but snarled at her, and Narcissa shrunk away from him. He could be quite frightening when he wanted to be, she thought, and then wondered why in the name of God Bellatrix would want to be with someone like that. "I know that Andromeda's been trying to get you to open up to _her_, and you won't bloody do it, and what you need right now is a good slap, and if I'm the only one who's willing to give it to you, then so be it!" He raised his hand threateningly and Narcissa screamed. She flung her arms up over her head and ducked down, tears filling her eyes.

"Don't!" she cried, a sob wrenching itself from her throat. "Don't, Rodolphus, please don't!"

She expected a blow, but none came, and slowly, she raised her head, looking up at him with wide and teary eyes. He was staring down at her with an expression that was too close to comprehension for her liking.

"Narcissa," he said very quietly, "has someone been hurting you?"

"What?" Her heart began to pound. "What do you mean, hurting me?"

"I mean, is there someone… anyone – and you don't have to tell me who," he added quickly, "who has… who has hit you or beaten you or… done anything to you?"

"I… don't know what you mean," Narcissa said in a tiny, shaking voice. "Of course not." She tried to force herself to laugh. "Who would do that to me?"

"Plenty of people." Rodolphus leaned a little closer to her and Narcissa shifted away, down the couch, trying to get as far away as possible from him. "You're a girl… you're small… easy to hurt… there are lots of people who would do things to you, you know."

"Well, no one is," she said, but she sounded more than a little hysterical, even to herself. "No one has hurt me. Never," she added, and with every time she repeated it, she thought that Rodolphus looked even more suspicious. "Why would you even think that?"

"Because if I went to slap Bellatrix," he said, "she'd slap me right back, and if I went to slap Andromeda, she might put up an arm to protect herself or get out of the way, but you…"

"What, I don't want to be slapped, so that means that someone's been hurting me?" Narcissa asked, scowling at him. "That doesn't make sense, Rodolphus, and I won't listen to you if that's the sort of thing you think!"

"I didn't say that," he told her calmly. "You ought not to put words in people's mouths. I never said that it necessarily meant that you were being hurt. I just think… based on some things… that I've noticed about you over time…"

"What sort of things?" she asked warily.

"Things like how you don't like people – other than your sisters – to even get close to you… like how you're moving away from me right now, and you have been for the entire time that we've been talking…"

"That's just stupid, Rodolphus," she told him, biting her tongue hard. She tasted a little blood in her mouth, and that only made her want to bite harder. Maybe, she thought, if she bit hard enough, she could chew right through her tongue, and then she'd never have to talk again. She wouldn't have to finish this conversation with Rodolphus and she'd never have to talk to her sisters, and she'd never _ever_ have anyone say that she ought to tell them what was wrong with her, because she wouldn't be able to.

"No, it isn't," he said, "and, you know, Narcissa, the more you tell me that there's nothing wrong and that I'm being stupid to think that there is, the more I think that you're lying."

"Well, I'm not!"

"Aren't you?"

She stood up, shaking her head. "No, I'm not," she told him, very aware of how close she was to crying, and how that probably made him think that she was hiding something even more than he already did. "I'm not lying, and I'll thank you to stop insinuating that I am!" She swallowed hard, biting back tears, then turned to flee from the common room. Rodolphus called something as she ran, but she only caught one word.

_Father._

_Get away _now_, Narcissa, get away…_

She sprinted up the stairs, and only when she was far away from Rodolphus and quite sure that he was not following her did she drop to the ground and begin to cry.

_I'm not hiding anything, I'm not!_

Narcissa allowed herself only a few minutes of sobbing before she pulled herself together and stood up, wobbling a little as she went to the lavatory to splash some cold water on her face. She felt much better after that, and even managed to smile a little at herself in the mirror.

_She would be all right if she just didn't think about what Rodolphus said._

It was all madness, in any case. No one had ever hurt Narcissa – not really, in any case. Perhaps she had gotten a slap or two for impertinence when she was little, but that wasn't anything. All Pureblood children underwent that sort of thing. If they didn't, how on earth would they ever grow up into proper ladies and gentlemen?

_Has anyone hurt you?_

_Father…_

She could hear Rodolphus's voice inside her head, no matter how hard she tried to block it out.

_Has anyone hurt you?_

_Father…_

"No one has hurt me!" she said out loud, glaring viciously at her reflection, as though it was the one that had made that insinuation. "No one!"

_No one?_

"Stop it," she said softly, rubbing her forehead and thanking God that she was alone – she must have been making such a spectacle of herself, talking like this. "Stop it, Narcissa. You're being stupid.

_Has anyone hurt you?_

_Father…_

"No one has hurt me," she whispered. "No one has hurt me at all."

_Bellatrix is worried about you._

And why? If Narcissa was being hurt, why would Bellatrix care? Bellatrix paid little attention to what was happening in her younger sisters' lives, and that was exactly how Narcissa liked it. She didn't care for having other people involving themselves in her business.

_Bellatrix is worried about you… Bellatrix is worried about you…_

_She wouldn't be worried if I got hurt_, Narcissa told herself. She ran a hand slowly through her hair, tugging on it slightly and letting the sharp jabs of pain bring her to earth. _Andromeda would, but not Bellatrix._

_I think…_

But then, maybe… well, maybe Bellatrix _might_ be worried about her. Maybe if Bellatrix had been hurt first–

_What are you thinking, Narcissa?_

Bellatrix _never_ got hurt. No one would dare to hurt her – and no one who did dare would live to tell the tale. Bellatrix was absolutely impossible to hurt, wasn't she?

_Wasn't she?_

Well… Father might have been able to hurt her if he tried very hard. But no one else. And why would Father want to hurt Bellatrix? She was his pet, his daughter who he pushed harder than anyone else because he wanted her to do well in the world, wasn't that right? That was why he took her into his study so often – to talk to her about her future, and make sure that she wouldn't marry below her station or waste her life. They spent hours in his study, talking…

_They are talking, aren't they?_

Of course they were talking. If he had been doing anything else – if Cygnus had done anything to hurt her – Narcissa would have known. Bellatrix would have told her, Andromeda, their mother, everyone. She wouldn't just _let_ herself be hurt. But she had never shown anything…

She had never cried, had she?

Had she?

_Bellatrix always made a careful effort not to cry when her little sisters were around, no matter what happened, but she was easy to hear._

But everyone cried sometimes – it didn't mean anything. All it meant was that sometimes, Bellatrix had to express some sort of emotion…

Funny how she always did it after she had been alone with Father.

Funny how Narcissa couldn't sleep without her.

Funny how sometimes, when Bellatrix was up in the attic, Narcissa would hear heavy, plodding footsteps in the hall outside. She would bury her face in the pillow and lie just as still as she knew how to be, barely daring to breathe for fear of it being seen, and she would hear her door creak open, see a bit of lightness in the corner of her eyes, and then there would be footsteps – heavy, plodding footsteps towards her bed, and she would listen to them, and to the sound of ragged breathing…

_He's just checking on you. There's nothing wrong with that! _

"Narcissa," she would hear her father whisper, and she used to turn over, blink up at him.

"Yes, Daddy?"

But she'd learned not to do that, she had learned to pretend that she didn't hear him and lie very, very still and not move even a single muscle. She had learned to stop breathing after he'd whispered her name. Sometimes he would reach down and she would feel his hand on her shoulder, or upon one narrow hip, and it would be all that she could do not to go stiff…

But then he would let go, and there was nothing wrong with any of that. It didn't hurt her, and having her father's hand upon her shoulder…

_Her hip, her thigh, her waist, her breast–_

"No!" she said out loud, glaring at her reflection. "No! No, he doesn't!"

_And then he leans close and you can smell roses and wine on his breath_–

She clapped her hands over her ears, as though that would block out the sound. Of course it didn't – it only made it louder inside her head.

_Roses from the cologne that Mother gives him because it disguises the smell of the wine, and the smell of the blood._

"There's _no blood!_"

_And it's red wine, his favourite – probably from a bottle you had to fetch for him–_

"No one hurts me," she said in a broken whisper, and then louder, shouting it at herself, "_No one hurts me! No one has ever hurt me!_"

Tears were oozing from the corners of her eyes, and now that she was staring into the mirror, looking at herself properly, she looked quite mad. Her hair was dishevelled from her running her fingers through it – all a mess, all over her, hanging down around her face in pale strings, even though she had washed it and combed out every tangle just yesterday. Just minutes ago – when she had first looked in the mirror – it had been perfectly smooth and satiny, and now it was a mess…

_Father won't like it._

Father had seen her unkempt before, and he had always said that it was _bad, Narcissa, bad. You can't be a proper lady when you look like that, you know. Now comb your hair and wash your face or I'll have to punish you._

_Yes, Daddy._

With shaking hands, Narcissa managed to turn the faucet. _Too far_, and water spilled out over her. She swore, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

_Ladies don't speak like that, Narcissa!_ she could hear her father saying, and tears stung her eyes.

_I'm sorry, Daddy, I didn't mean to say it. I want to be a lady. I want to be a lady, Daddy._

_My little lady, isn't that right, Cissy? You want to be my little rose, don't you? A pretty little flower, just for me?_

_Yes, Daddy._

_That's right, Narcissa. And you know what ladies do when they make their fathers angry…_

_Yes, Daddy, but please don't make me–_

_My study, Narcissa. Now._

She let out a tiny, inarticulate shriek through her fingers.

_He didn't hurt me! He never did!_

_Don't lie._

"He hurt Bellatrix," Narcissa said out loud, still pressing her hand over her mouth so that the words came out slurred and muffled. She could feel hot tears on her cheeks now – red hot, burning hot, _like his hands when they're on you_– "He hurt Bellatrix, and she doesn't know I know, and I won't tell- but he never hurt me!"

She was glaring at her reflection now, but buried deep inside the harried, mad-looking girl that she could see in it, was another girl, one who didn't look the way Narcissa knew she did. This girl looked smug, a bit self-satisfied, and Narcissa knew–

_That she knows I'm lying–_

That she _thought_ Narcissa was lying, and she could see her so much more clearly now than she could see crazy-girl Narcissa. She was so close – so close to her in the glass that Narcissa could have reached out and slapped that impertinent grin right off her face.

She drew back her hand and lashed out, trying to hit her.

But before she could reach that smirking face, her hand hit something hard and cold, and then the girl was obscured by a pale, glittering spider's web and a splash of red, like a great crimson rose blossoming out of the glass, and Narcissa fell back, shrieking and clutching her hand.

"_Fuck!_"

Blood ran down her wrist, and she stuck her whole arm under the water spraying from the tap, trying to wash it up, but it only turned the water crimson and made it sticky on her fingers.

_Red on his fingers, like the first time–_

_So little, and he was so big–_

Narcissa was sobbing hysterically, her whole body heaving with tears, and it was all she could do to draw breath. Her arm was burning up – her whole arm, from the fingertips right to the shoulder, and the rest of her too, all on fire. Her knuckles were swelling too, from where they'd hit the glass.

_They'd bruise._

_Where did you get those bruises, Cissy?_

_I don't have bruises._

_Yes you do, all over your legs._

She could hear Andromeda's voice in her head, all sweet and polite concern, thinking she was doing the right thing by asking, but all she was doing was ripping Narcissa's heart out.

_Oh… I just fell._

But the only time that she had ever fallen was after – when her legs were weak and hurting and in between them, deep inside her…

_Don't cry, Narcissa. You're a big girl – you shouldn't be crying._

_It hurts, Daddy. Please don't._

_Don't cry, and I'll be gentler._

So Narcissa had silenced her tears and only closed her eyes and bitten the insides of her lips while he–

While he–

_And when he let her go, she went to the loo to wash and there was blood on her teeth, blood on her thighs…_

"Is someone in… Narcissa!"

It was Bella's voice, wasn't it? Narcissa could hear it, as though from a thousand miles away. She blinked twice, but all she could see was redness. And pain.

She never knew pain had a colour, but it did. Crimson that sparkled with gold that sparkled with black that sparked with crimson, and all over again. Narcissa tried to speak, tried to say _yes, Bella, I'm here_, but she was too busy watching the glittering pain that she was in.

_She thought that she'd hurt before, but now she hurt inside, and she hurt where he'd done it, and her arm – her _arm…

Arms.

Warm arms, soft arms, thin arms, wrapping around her and lowering her to the ground.

Hands.

Strong hands with long, scratching fingernails brushing the hair oh so tenderly from her face.

"It's going to be all right, Narcissa."

And Bella's voice.

"Bella…" Narcissa just managed to croak, but she felt a finger press over her lips and fell silent. It hurt to talk in any case. But then, so did everything. Everything hurt. Everything hurt so much.

She felt something cool and damp sponging at her arms, and then heard Bellatrix whispering something, and suddenly, her hand wasn't throbbing quite so much. It still hurt – oh, it hurt _badly_ – but in a different way. In a duller, _cleaner_ way.

"Everything's all right, Cissy."

And then the warm, wet thing was on Narcissa's eyes. Everything went dark for a moment and her body jolted automatically, lashing out for fear that she was going blind, but when she saw light again, the redness was gone, and she could _almost_ see clearly.

Bellatrix was bending over her.

Her long, black hair fell in curtains about her face, which was white and drawn and all fear and anxiety.

"Cissy, can you hear me?"

There were tears shining in Bellatrix's eyes now. Bellatrix didn't let people see her cry – not _ever_, she simply _didn't_, except that one time that Narcissa had dared to go up into the attic.

She had been sitting in the corner, with her face buried in her hands, and when she looked up, there were tears in her eyes then. They hadn't fallen down her face. Just in her eyes, shining and giving them a glassy, glossy look, like the eyes of a doll…

_And her legs had been spread apart, as though it hurt her to hold them close to each other, and there was blood again smearing her thighs as she sat, immobile, on the attic floor, the only movement the old rose-lace curtains fluttering over the attic's badly boarded up window._

Narcissa let out a strangled cry, and her arms shot up to wrap around her sister's neck. Bellatrix jolted automatically at her touch, and Narcissa could feel her stiffen, but she didn't let go. Her whole body was convulsing with sobs, and she buried her face in Bellatrix's shoulder to cry.

"Bella- Bella!"

"Shh…" Bellatrix stroked her hair slightly, then stopped when Narcissa's tears came faster. "Narcissa, for the love of God, what's wrong?"

"How- did you- f- find me?"

"Rodolphus said he'd tried to talk to you and you went running – you're bleeding all over the floor, Narcissa! What happened to your arm? Did you hit the mirror? Are you mad, Cissy?

She nodded. "I- I think- I am…"

"Don't say that!"

"But I am, Bella!" Narcissa was hysterical, crying and shaking as her sister tried to hold her. "Bella- Bella, I–"

"Shh… breathe, Cissy…"

Narcissa took a deep gulp of air, then looked up at her sister with wide and anguished eyes.

"Bella," she whispered, "he hurt me."

"Who did?" Bellatrix asked, suddenly alert. Narcissa could feel her hands tighten into fists, bunching in Narcissa's clothes, and she _knew_. She _knew._

"He did it to you too, Bella."

And that was when Narcissa saw it. It was the same expression that she had come to recognize in herself – the one that she had been wearing for most of the year, almost every day since she had come back to Hogwarts after the winter holidays.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bellatrix said, and Narcissa recognized _that_ too. She recognized the way Bellatrix was saying it, the stiff, too-innocent way. The same way that Narcissa had been saying _I'm fine_ for so long…

"Daddy," she whispered.

Bellatrix jolted back from her little sister. Narcissa stared at her imploringly, _begging_ her not to keep saying _I'm fine, I don't know what you mean, I'm fine._ Narcissa needed her sister to understand – needed her to _know…_

"Did he do it to you too?" she whispered.

Narcissa hesitated, too afraid to say it. She didn't _want_ to say it, she didn't _want_ it to be true. It _couldn't_ be true, not really.

_But it is._

She took a deep, shaking breath, and nodded.

Bellatrix's face crumpled. For a second, Narcissa was afraid that she was going to be angry, but then she reached out and grabbed her little sister close, pulling her against her and burying her face in her hair.

"Why didn't you tell me, Cissy?"

"I didn't know," she sobbed. "I didn't know… I didn't- I thought that- I don't know!"

Bellatrix was silent for a long moment, then whispered, "You know that he did it to me?"

Narcissa nodded.

Bellatrix swore softly, then hugged her little sister tight.

"I didn't know that he was doing it to you too," she whispered. "If he had, I would have stopped him…"

"You couldn't have," sniffed Narcissa.

"I could have tried…"

"It wouldn't have done any good."

Bellatrix stroked her little sister's hair slowly, thoughtfully, and more tenderly than Narcissa could remember being touched in a very long time. There was a pause, and then Bellatrix said, "At least… at least now, you have me…"

Narcissa looked up at her with an expression of slight confusion. Bellatrix managed the tiniest of tiny smiles.

"Even," she said softly, "even if I can't stop him… and I don't think that I can… when he does it, you can come to me, all right? I can… I can try… to help, to clean you up, to- to make it stop hurting…" Her voice cracked a little. "It's not much, but- but it's all I can do."

Narcissa nodded, still clinging to her.

It wasn't much. It wasn't much at all. If, Narcissa thought, the world had been anything like a fair place, Bellatrix would have been able to do something – tell someone who could help, teach Narcissa how to stop him, help her learn how to keep herself safe in _some_ way. But Bellatrix couldn't even protect herself, much less her little sister. She couldn't keep their father from hurting her, so how was she meant to keep him from hurting Narcissa?

If the world was fair, Bellatrix could have helped.

But the world wasn't fair. The world was horrible and dark and evil, full of horrible, dark, evil people, and all that Narcissa could ever hope for – all that Narcissa could ever reasonably expect – was one person who cared.

And Bellatrix cared.

And that was all that she could do.

)O(

_Fin_


End file.
